


Like Taking Felix Felicis

by me_midget (gin_tonic)



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Crime Fighting, M/M, Mystery, Snarry-A-Thon Challenge, snarry-a-thon 2015
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-20
Updated: 2015-05-20
Packaged: 2018-08-21 22:14:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,758
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8262241
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gin_tonic/pseuds/me_midget
Summary: Written for #027: Text of prompt: As an Auror, Harry knows that sometimes it pays to go with your gut. His sudden impulse to go and visit the home of a man he hasn't seen in 5 years hits pay dirt; Spinner's End looks to have been trashed on the inside, like in a fierce fight has taken place less than an hour earlier, leaving fresh blood stains on the floor. Harry knows Snape still lives at Spinner's End, but where is he now? And why did the wards not sound at the breaching of the hero's home?





	

**Author's Note:**

> Many, many thanks go out to the lovely [](http://drachenmina.dreamwidth.org/profile)[](http://drachenmina.dreamwidth.org/)**drachenmina** , who saved the day by beta-reading for me.

He didn’t quite know why he was going to Snape’s place. Really, he didn’t. He hadn’t seen the man in years, not since Snape kicked him out after Harry had tried one too many times to reconcile with him over shared war memories. Okay, yes, Harry had been drunk and maybe a little bit infatuated, and when he looked at the situation today… well, he would have thrown himself out, too. But anyway, the point was that he hadn’t seen the man since then and yet now he was taking a detour from going back to the Ministry, of all things, just because he felt a tugging feeling that he should go to Spinner’s End.  
  
It felt a bit like back in sixth year, when he’d had that sip of _Felix Felicis_. He just _knew_ he had to go there.  
  
Spinner’s End looked as it always had: Dreary. Harry had never understood why Snape didn’t just move to a more cheerful place. Harry had Apparated to the far end of the street, and slowly made his way down the street. Years as an Auror had taught him to be prepared for all kinds of situations: his hand never strayed far from his holster. Something about the street, something about being here today, made him twitch.  
  
He found Snape’s door ajar. Immediately, his throat constricted and his heart rate increased. Harry switched into action mode. Ducking slightly, he pushed the door further open and squeezed in. Snape used to have wards up to keep out intruders and busybodies – Harry doubted that this had changed over the years. But he couldn’t detect any wards now, couldn’t even feel the tiniest bit of protection spells. What could have made Snape dismantle all of them?  
  
Where the hall had looked ordinary, the sitting room looked… well. Like a tornado had blown through it. Heavy bookshelves made of oak had been knocked to the floor, a sofa was lying on its back and shards of glass and porcelain were all over the floor. Harry cast a quick detection spell. He was alone. No living being beside himself was in the house. But surely Snape couldn’t be… Could he?  
  
Harry continued to move into the room. At first he didn’t spot it beneath the rubble. He only noticed a coppery, all too familiar smell in the air. But as he moved forward, he saw the red glistening on the floor. He stopped dead in his tracks and just stared. A pool of blood, right there next to the doorway to the hall. He blinked, slowly, trying to compute what he was seeing. Memories flashed through his mind and for a moment Snape's house and the Shrieking Shack became one. He almost could see Snape lying there in that pool of blood and started reaching out. Then he blinked again and the vision was gone. All that was left was a pool of blood. Harry forced himself to step closer. There was no way to tell if this was Snape's blood, but if it was… It was a lot of blood.  
  
Harry cast a quick spell over the blood pool to preserve the scene. For a second or two he debated calling in reinforcements, but decided against it. This was Snape, after all. He needed to find out what was going on first. Needed to be sure this was what it appeared to be. And – in a way – he wasn't yet ready to share Snape with anyone. Not even in a situation like this.  
  
Harry cast the standard detection spells – checking for spell damage, Disapparition remnants and Unforgivables. What he found was far from comforting: the fight had been a hard one and far more lethal than the toppled shelves suggested. Cutting spells, including Snape's favoured _Sectumsempra_ still hung in the air. Most likely, the blood pool had been a result from those. Someone had Disapparated, but Harry suspected that that person had done a Side-Along as well, which explained why there was no-one lying at the doorway.  
  
He wasn't sure if he wanted that pool of blood to be from the unknown subject, though. If it was, it suggested that Snape had hurt that person and Disapparated somewhere with them instead of calling the Aurors. Which could, in turn, mean that he was involved in something bad. But if the blood was Snape's… if someone had hurt and taken him… That thought made Harry feel queasy. He scanned the room, then moved on to check the other parts of the house. It appeared that the fight had been limited to the sitting room and the hallway, before it had ended abruptly.  
  
"Right. Okay," Harry mumbled and went through the motions of standard procedure – save for the parts about calling in reinforcements, of course. After he'd secured the scene and taken in all that would be needed to view the scene in a Pensieve later, Harry started looking at the place in detail. Maybe there was something that could tell him what the hell had happened here. The desk was the obvious place to start. It was as pristine inside the drawers as it was on top: the quills and a few pens had been neatly positioned next to each other and the parchment one drawer below had been sorted by length and size. Harry wasn't surprised at this – the man had always been pedantic about being tidy. That was not to say that Harry wouldn't have gotten a kick out of finding out that Snape really was a slob underneath it all.  
  
The real surprise, though, came when Harry open the last desk drawer: He saw his name. "Dear Harry," a piece of parchment read. If he ever told anyone about this moment later on, he would pretend that his hand didn't tremble when he reached for the parchment.  
  


_"Dear Harry,_  
_I don't know why I continue writing to you. I know this attempt at communicating with you will be as unwelcome as the rest of them. Most likely, you will not even read these missives, but they continue to be a form of therapy, if you will, that I cannot think of giving up yet._  
  
_What I will not do any longer, however, is speak of the past. The past is done and over and cannot be recovered or changed. It is what it is and I –"_  


  
Snape hadn't finished the letter before putting it in the drawer. Harry swallowed hard. Why was Snape writing to him, of all people? And why would he say that he'd written to Harry before? Many times, it would seem. Harry looked in the drawers, checked the shelves – those toppled as well as those still upright – and found… nothing. Not even a hint that Snape had written any more letters. Which led to the conclusion that Snape really had sent off those letters.  
  
Lump in his throat, Harry continued his search for clues on what had happened to Snape. He came up empty. And the only valuable lead that he had were those ominous letters sent to him. Harry carefully sealed the crime scene and Apparated home, intending to find out more about the letters and about what had been going on with Snape these past years.  
  
  


******

 

Harry Apparated right into the hallway of the flat he shared with Ginny. Despite breaking up all those years ago – or maybe because of it – he and Ginny got along fabulously. Splitting the cost of a place, located in one of London's quarters that was popular with young witches and wizards, seemed only natural to both of them, especially since both of them worked for the Auror department. Once Ron had given up his spot in the training programme in favour of joining George at the shop all those years ago, Ginny had quickly stepped in. She had made a name for herself, too, what with being one of the curse experts of the department.

Harry shrugged off his coat and made his way to the kitchen, where Ginny and Kreacher were hovering above a pot, discussing how a stew was cooked correctly. For a moment he was caught in the normality of the scene, but then the scene in Snape's house flashed in front of his eyes again. "Ginny, can I talk to you for a second?"

Ginny turned and smiled. She pushed her shoulder-length hair behind her ear and wiped her hands on her apron. "Of course, what's up?"

Harry waved her out of the kitchen. This was best done in private. "Have you ever seen letters, addressed to me, from Snape?"

Ginny blinked. "Whoa, where did this just come from?"

Harry shifted on his feet. "Doesn't matter. Did you see them or not?"

Ginny bit her lip in a way that told Harry that he wouldn't like what was coming next. "I… Well, remember when you were… when you started Auror training? You'd had been visiting Snape a lot and then he kicked you out and –"

"Yes, I remember," Harry said darkly. That time wasn't exactly his favourite memory.

"Well, it was a while after you got really drunk that the first letter arrived. You'd just got a bit better and had thrown yourself into the training, so I thought keeping the letter from you was the right thing."

Harry breathed heavily. "You… The 'first' letter? There were more, then?"

Ginny nodded. "They arrived rather regularly. Every couple of months the same owl would deliver a letter. If I wasn't there, Kreacher was to collect them and give them to me." When he noticed the livid look on Harry's face, she hurried to add: "You were finally over Snape! You were dating! I was sure you getting those letters would just… would just fuck everything up!"

"It wasn't your decision to make," Harry said, barely containing his temper. A little voice in his head told him that Ginny had meant well, but that little voice got quieter and quieter with every passing second. "They were my letters. And I want them. Now."

But Ginny crossed her arms in front of her chest. "You never were able to shake that man."

"Ginny. I want my fucking letters!"

Ginny sniffed and flicked her wand. Something inside her room rattled loudly and then a stack of letters sailed towards Harry. "I know you think I shouldn't have taken them. But you don't have to behave like an arse."

Harry wanted to shout at her, wanted to tell her that reading these letters might give him the clue that he needed to find Snape. To save him, possibly. He wanted to shake her and hex her and sink down next to her and cry, because he just couldn't grasp what was happening, couldn't understand how it came to be that he was holding letters from Snape in his hands and blood was pooling on Snape's floor. But Harry didn't. Instead, he just grabbed the letters and went to his room.

 

******

 

_"Potter_

_It is only now, months later that I can grasp the full stupidity of your visit. How arrogant of you to show up uninvited at my house. I have no interest discussing the war – much less with you._

_I don’t want to have to see your face again._

_Severus Snape "_

 

Harry put the letter aside and rubbed his eyes. He could see why Ginny wouldn't want him to read this. Even five years after the fact the letter made him feel stupid and slightly inadequate. Still, he picked up the next letter and began to read. It was dated four months after the first letter had arrived.

_"Potter  
It seems like you have taken my advice for once and haven't dared to cross my doorstep again. I am pleased to see that our talks finally have made an impact on your behaviour._

_Furthermore, it came to my notice that you've completed your Auror training. Congratulations are in order, I suppose. I am certain your fans are waiting with bated breath for you to save the day once again._

_Sincerely,  
Severus Snape"_

 

Strange. Why would Snape write to him if he was so happy that Harry stayed away? Harry had always known that Snape liked to rub it in, but this went a little far, even for him. Harry turned towards the third letter, dated three months later.

_"Potter,  
I was glad to hear you only got a few scrapes during the supposedly covert mission that you and your colleagues very obviously botched up. You certainly haven't lasted long before getting yourself into trouble. See that you are more careful next time – I won't be there to save your hide._

_I am sure it will be of interest to you to hear that my small owl-order business is taking off nicely. You talked about me having to get a logo for 'my brand' in order to increase sales and enhance advertisements. I considered that idea thoroughly, found it unbelievably moronic, and decided to keep doing what I had been doing previously. Which worked, of course. In the potion business, reputation is everything – and my potions are hard to match. Which you should know, since your department is one of my bigger clients. Therefore those potions that you were most likely administered at the scene of crime had been brewed by me, which – in a way – made me the one who saved your arse despite everything._

_Sincerely,  
Severus Snape"_

 

Harry scoffed at that. He had known Snape to display some innate arrogance, but this just took the cake. It was weird, though – it seemed as if Snape had kept tabs on him. Harry had tried to stay away from everything that concerned Snape. He hadn't followed his business, hadn't looked the man up and checked records here and there. It had cost a lot of effort on Harry's part, but he'd managed, knowing that once he even so much as dipped into Snape's life, he would have a lot of trouble getting out and distancing himself again. And now here he was, preparing to delve deep.

Harry swallowed thickly and read through the rest of the letters. Their dates showed that Snape had indeed written to him rather regularly. Contents of the letters ranged from commenting on Harry's newest exploits as an Auror (though Harry couldn't even begin to guess where Snape got his information from) or on rumours that had been spread by the press, to giving Harry updates on his own business. Here and there Snape would also comment on a friend or acquaintance, such as Minerva or Poppy or even Hermione, once. Between the lines it was obvious that Snape had wanted Harry to take part in his life, somehow.

"Why would you do this, Snape?" Harry mumbled. Regret bubbled up in Harry – Snape had written to him all these years and there had been no reply from Harry. Should he have noticed somehow that Ginny was weaselling these missives away? But how should he have? Ginny could be secretive, if she chose to be, and her spellwork was excellent. If she didn’t want him to know something, then he wouldn’t. And Harry couldn’t even be angry at her anymore. Not when he had seen the first letter, filled with insults. Ginny had always been protective of him, of her brothers, not caring that she was the youngest. Everyone who was family – and that included Hermione and him – was to be protected.

Harry buried his head in his hands and rubbed at his face roughly. He still hadn’t come any further with finding out what could have happened to Snape. Or had he? If he didn’t take anything into account that Snape had said about him – at least for now – what was left then?

Harry leafed through the letters again until he found it. Snape’s owl-order business. Could this have something to do with Snape’s potions? He hadn’t seen the lab when he’d been at the house, but it had to be there, somewhere. Snape would have a state-of-the-art lab and he would have set it up in a stable and well-aired environment. Could he have mirrored the set-up at Hogwarts and put the lab in a cellar?

Harry got up and shoved the letter in which Snape talked about the lab into his coat. He needed to go and find that cellar door.

 

******

 

Harry lifted the spell blocking entrance to Snape’s property temporarily and slipped in under the wards before letting them fall again. Doubtless, Snape had hidden the door to his lab to keep visitors or intruders out. He cast another detection spell without really expecting that it would work – it didn’t. He would have to find the entrance to the lab by a good, old-fashioned comb-through. He started in the sitting room, which had been the centre of the fight. Maybe the attacker had followed a similar train of thought and had expected to find a passageway behind a shelf. There was none, nor could Harry detect the magical energy needed to conceal a door.

He worked his way through the house: Kitchen and storage room were a bust, possibly because Snape feared a contamination of his food. The cellar, strangely, contained cobwebs and old boxes full of stuff that hadn’t been touched in years, but nothing else. Harry sighed and returned to the kitchen. His stomach was rumbling – he hadn’t eaten in hours. While he bit into an apple he found nearby the sink, leaning against the kitchen counter, Harry went through the layout of the house. The top floor… it was doable to have the lab up there or have a doorway to the cellar put up there, thanks to the magic of wizard space. But that sort of spellwork would be brimming with energy and Harry would have easily detected it. No, Snape would go for a safer solution. One where contamination of the rest of the house, in case of an accident, for example, would be kept minimal. One that was easier to access and yet not too easy to find.

Harry threw the apple’s core into the bin and walked to the small downstairs lavatory. Closed the door and looked around. Toilet. Sink. Pot of flowers on the window sill. Strange, Snape didn’t look like the type to bother with flowers, especially not in a small loo. Harry reached out to touch the petals, but stopped in his tracks before his fingertips had reached them. Why was there a window? The loo was located in the hall, just next to the stairs. There shouldn’t be a window there.

Harry twirled and flicked his wand – and found a hidden door. Slowly, the mirage of the window and the potted plant faded away and revealed a steel door. Access through the loo made sense. Snape would be able to get at least somewhat clean before entering the rest of the house. Taking a deep breath, Harry pulled the door open and made his way down the stairs.

The lab looked as if it must fulfil all of Snape’s dreams. It really was state-of-the-art, even though it wouldn’t look like it to the casual observer. Not that any casual observers would ever get to view the place. Harry checked on the cauldrons first to make sure nothing was bubbling down here that was close to exploding. Snape could very well have been working on something before he’d been disturbed. But the cauldrons were empty and cold and no fire was currently burning. Harry walked around first, taking everything in, just like he had done with the crime scene above. He checked the shelves, checked the cabinets, checked all the boxes he could find. And eventually, Harry found a folder with neatly filed orders Snape had received and worked through. Harry took that one upstairs, glad he could escape the gloomy lab.

Harry fixed himself a tea in the kitchen and sat down at the table and felt he was closer to Snape than he had ever been. Slowly, he worked his way through order for pain relievers, for Pepperup Potions, fertility enhancements, healing draughts, Skele-Gro, and various other potions for minor or major ailments. Harry was ready to be lulled by Snape’s neat writing, when he spotted a page that looked different from the others. It was an order for the Draught of Living Death. Harry frowned. Distribution of that particular potion was highly regulated and it was illegal to produce or buy it without an official licence. Snape had to know that. Then why had he accepted that order?

A note, like the ones that Snape had scribbled into the Potions book in his sixth year, said: "Clarissa came to me asking for help for her sister, who has been cursed. I asked my contacts, who could verify her story." Was it this simple? Someone who couldn’t access the potion through the proper channels, possibly, and had turned to Snape for help? Harry’s instincts told him that there was more to the story. Had Snape decided not to care or had he just not seen it? Harry took a sip from his now cold tea and took a look at the following pages. There were several orders for the potion from the same person – Harry froze. He _knew_ those dates. In a recent case of his, someone had drugged men in their homes and had then robbed them on those exact days. Could it really…?

"No," Harry said slowly. It couldn't be that easy. His case couldn't possibly be linked to Snape's disappearance. And yet… It made sense. The victims had been drugged with something containing valerian roots and wolfsbane – both were ingredients in the Draught of Living Death. Excitedly, Harry leafed through Snape's notes again, but found no name for the woman who ordered the potion. But on the last page, scribbled in the margins, Harry found another note from Snape: _"She is lying."_

 

******

 

Harry wasted no time getting back to the department, where he ignored the strange looks from his colleagues and dug into his files on the case immediately. Witness statements, lists of stolen items, medical reports on the patients… Harry had it all on his desk. The longer he looked at Snape's disappearance, the more he was convinced that Snape had been forced from his home. And that the blood on the floor had been Snape's, too.

"Potter, what are you doing here?" Kingsley's voice boomed from the door.

Harry looked up quickly. "Caught a break in that break-in case. The one where we were thinking that someone – most likely a woman – had convinced the victims to take her home, where she then drugged and robbed the men."

"I thought it was a cold case. You haven't had a solid lead with that for two weeks."

"It was cold, until now."

Kingsley stepped closer. "Potter, you look like shit. It's a case of breaking and entering, not life and death. I want you to go and get some sleep. You should have been off hours ago."

Harry bit his lip. He couldn't very well tell Kingsley that it really was a matter of life and death, not without revealing everything he had learned about Snape tonight. Not without divulging that Snape was, in a way, involved in the whole nasty business. But if he didn't tell Kingsley, he wouldn't have a reason to stay and read through the rest of the files. Harry sighed. "You’re right." He got up, shook himself and steadied himself by leaning against the desk. A yawn distracted Kingsley while Harry's nimble fingers performed a quick spell to shrink some of the documents under his other hand. "Sorry. You're right, I'll go and have a kip."

"Good. And don't come in early tomorrow, you hear me?"

"I won't," Harry said with a tired smile. He stuffed his hand – fist closed around the documents – into his pocket, and made his way to the door.

 

******

 

Instead of going home, Harry Apparated to a quiet wizarding café that was a little out of the way, but still in London. Over a cup of strong coffee, he pored over the documents, comparing dates, names, and details to Snape's files. And when he found nothing they had in common save the dates and Harry's eyes were basically stuck to Snape's scrawl saying that he’d talked to his sources, Harry Disapparated again.

"I thought I was clear last time," Goyle said as Harry walked towards him. "No visits when customers are about."

Harry looked around. The street was deserted despite the loud thumping of the club Goyle was standing in front of. "Can't see any around. Slow night?"

Goyle sniffed. "It's still early."

"Which is why you are manning the door instead of sitting in your office."

"Nah, I'm just out here 'cause I like beating up people." Both of them grinned, because they both knew that there was truth behind what both of them had said. Not many people knew that burly, dangerous-looking Goyle really was the owner of one of the hottest clubs in town. Goyle liked to keep it that way. And he liked controlling who entered the club. And if that allowed him to introduce one or two guests to his fists… so be it. His unique position also made him a damn good informant. And while Harry and he would never be best friends, they had made their peace with each other.

"Listen, it's about Snape."

Goyle's stance changed immediately from laid back to watchful. It was as if suspicion was radiating off of him in waves. Harry lifted a hand to pacify him before he could take this the wrong way. "Something happened to him. Something bad, I think."

Goyle looked around furtively. "What?"

"He's gone. Blood on the floor. Goyle, I need to find him!"

"Fuck. Okay. What do you need to know?"

"Snape sometimes comes to you, asking for information, doesn't he?"

Goyle shifted on his feet again. The topic was obviously uncomfortable for him. Had Snape asked about Harry, maybe? Was that a way to keep tabs on him? Harry didn't dare ask. "Occasionally, yes."

"Has he ever asked you about a woman named Clarissa, whose sister is ill?"  
  
A long, low groan told Harry that he'd found what he had been looking for. "Yes. Clarissa Clobart. She's older than us, as is her little sister. Three or four years, it must have been. Word is that an ex poisoned or cursed her." Goyle looked at Harry. "Don't tell me she had something to do with whatever is happening."  
  
Harry looked at him grimly. "I'm afraid she might. Snape wrote in his notes that she lied. I think the whole story about her sister is fake."  
  
"Fuck. Are you sure?"  
  
Instead of confirming it again, Harry told Goyle that he needed an address. Surprisingly hesitantly, Goyle provided him with one. It was a vague one, but it was better than nothing.  
  
"Potter. If she did something to Snape… if she managed to overpower _him_ … Don't go alone."  
  
Harry wanted to tell Goyle that he was a fully trained Auror and in much better fighting shape than Snape probably had been. But he didn't. He didn't make any promises, either, and just turned around and left. Common sense told him that he was bloody well exhausted and should go to bed. That he could just attack early in the morning. Common sense also told him that Goyle had probably been right. But this was Snape. If the man was in danger, Harry just couldn't go to bed, not like that. He couldn't sit around waiting. He had to do something. Now. Harry Disapparated again.  
  
  


******

 

The house that Clarissa supposedly lived in was a little out of the way, which was good in Harry's book, because it would be easier to contain the scene later. There were also no Muggles around that would need memory charms afterwards. Harry always tried to avoid that. He hid in some nearby bushes while checking the place out. If Clarissa had really robbed those people, if she'd been the one to come up with the plan to do so, she sure as hell would have wards and other protective measures in place. And, sure enough, his spells found several enchantments securing the building as well as three traps installed on the premises. The house looked empty, what with no light shining through the windows, but a quick detection spell told Harry that there were two people inside.

There were two possibilities as to how the whole thing could go down. Either he’d manage to disarm the spells in place and sneak in afterwards, or disarming them would alarm Clarissa before he could even set foot into the house. He didn't have any other options, though, if he wanted to save Snape. Taking a deep breath, Harry dismantled the wards and the traps. He waited for a couple of seconds, just in case some crazy witch would come storming from the house, but nothing happened.

Wand in hand, Harry moved in on the house. " _Alohomora_ ," he whispered and pushed the door open. The ground floor was as dark as it had appeared from the outside. Harry stopped when he'd reached the stairs. Upper floor or cellar? Cellar. She'd keep him there if she wanted him to continue brewing. If he even was in the state to do so. Harry opened the door to the cellar carefully, but didn't move any further when he heard voices arguing.

"Well, you can forget about that little plan of yours. I have helped you enough."

"You haven't helped me at all!"

"I know it was you who robbed those men, Clarissa. And don't pretend you don't know what I'm talking about. We've had this discussion many times more than I care to count and I am tired of doing so. No more, I say."

"You will brew the potion!"

Harry heard Snape sigh. It was a weird sound, because all trace of disgust and exasperation was gone from it. Snape really must be hurt badly if it was coming to this, Harry thought. "I am not going to do any kind of brewing for you. I have said so again and again. You hold nothing against me. Nothing can compel me to comply. So just kill me and have done with it."

Harry took that as his cue and bounded down the stairs. He spotted Snape first; Snape was bound and barely managed to keep sitting upright on a cot. He was bleeding from more than just a cut over his eye. Harry threw a hex at Clarissa, but she blocked it easily.

"Potter. Why, what a surprise, Snape, isn't?" Clarissa dodged another curse and threw one of her own at Harry. "I saw that article on him on your desk. The one that was in the _Prophet's_ issue from two months ago. Well read, wasn't it?" She sent a flurry of cutting hexes towards Harry. One cut through his shield and nicked him on the shoulder. "Maybe you'll be more cooperative when I hurt him. I can cut him into little bits while you refuse to work with me."

Harry was sure Clarissa wasn't just all talk. Her magic was strong and heated and dangerous, while his own was hampered by his exhaustion. Fuck. And she was good, Harry had to give her that. He sent a flurry of disarming spells at her, but they were all easily blocked. Time to bring out the big guns, Harry thought, and didn’t raise his wand in time to protect himself against the stinging hex that got him in the side.

"Fuck!"

"Better watch out, little Auror, " Clarissa said in a sing-song voice, before she turned to Snape. "I will kill him and you will watch, if that’s what it takes!"

Sparks flew through the cellar, always dangerously close to the potions nearby. Harry wouldn’t be able to keep duelling for much longer. A couple more minutes and then his magic would falter and he would stumble and fatally fall. He should have rested in between. Should have, but couldn’t have, not with Snape in danger.

"Potter! Give me your wand!" Snape suddenly shouted.  
  
For a second, Harry almost believed what Snape said, and he hesitated briefly, but when he saw Clarissa turning her head, he realised what Snape had done and sent a hex her way. Clarissa flew through the air and smacked hard against the wall, before falling motionless to the floor. Harry wasted no time and bound her good and tight before taking her wand from her. For good measure, he also added a gag.  
  
Then, finally, he turned to Snape. He found himself unable to say anything, so he undid the ropes that bound him and handed him Clarissa’s wand.  
  
"I’d prefer mine," Snape said, his voice rough. "She kept it over there. Top drawer." He pointed at a small cabinet. Harry retrieved the wand. His shoulder and side hurt like a bitch and he felt like he could sleep for days.  
  
"Are you okay?"  
  
Snape glared. Despite the state he was in, the look was still impressive. "Does it look like I am?"  
  
Harry gave him a conceding nod. "Let’s get you to St. Mungo’s."  
  
"What about her?" From the way Snape asked, Harry gathered that he wouldn’t be averse to disposing of her himself. But despite everything that had happened, Harry couldn’t let him. He was an Auror, after all.

"I’ll come back and take her in after you’ve been admitted."  
  
Snape raised an eyebrow. "And how will you explain this to your superiors?"  
  
Harry shrugged. "It was my case anyway. The break-ins, that is. A little memory charm will erase you from her memory and that’s it. "  
  
"Sounds a little too easy."  
  
"Sounds like I solved the case, I’d say," Harry said. Maybe he’d tell Kingsley what had really happened. Or Ginny. But the truth, for once, wasn’t too high on his priority list. "Let's get you out of here." He reached out and took Snape’s hand to pull him to his feet. Then paused for a second. "And once we're both healed up and have had a proper kip, we'll sit down, have tea, and we'll… we'll talk." He squeezed Snape's hand.  
  
Snape looked at him for a long time, unmoving, unblinking. But when he finally squeezed Harry's hand back, a small smile was tugging at the corner of his mouth, as if it wanted to come out but had forgotten how. "Tea sounds acceptable."  


-The End-

  



End file.
